


Abominable Blanket Monsters

by Kedreeva



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Avalanche, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Sciles, Scott/Stiles - Freeform, Skittles, Snuggling for warmth, cuddling for warmth, trapped in a cabin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedreeva/pseuds/Kedreeva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles get trapped in a cabin by an avalanche.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abominable Blanket Monsters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hardticket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardticket/gifts).



> This commissioned by Hardticket for the Sterek Campaign's Wolf Pack Charity Project (2013). Thank you for helping the wolves!
> 
> Prompt was: Sciles, trapped in the cold and cuddling for warmth.

* * *

 

 

            A tiny flame of light flickered to life in the darkness, illuminating a small space around them. Scott moved the match to the wick of the candle Stiles held, and they both breathed a sigh of relief when it caught immediately. "Lucky you thought to search the entire cabin when we got here," Stiles said as he set the candle on a small table beside the couch.

            "It's sort of a habit," Scott said, picking up another candle and lighting it off the first. This one he set into the small candelabra on the mantle. "Always check our surroundings. Make sure there are no threats. No traps." He grabbed up the package of matches while Stiles watched.

            "Scott," Stiles said softly, but Scott was stubbornly not looking at him, trying instead to arrange logs in the fireplace. Frowning, he crossed the room and knelt behind Scott, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Scott's midsection. "Hey," he said.

            Scott relaxed a little, letting Stiles unbalance him, pulling him back into his lap. His eyes closed the moment he felt Stiles' cold nose press against the warm skin at the crook of his neck. Already the cabin was cooling. "I have to get this fire going, Stiles."

            "It's not your fault," Stiles told him, lips against the back of his shoulder. "As much of a _dick_ as your father is, it's not his fault either. This wasn't a trap, it was an _avalanche._ You couldn't have stopped it no matter how many times you sniffed around the cabin."

            An exasperated sigh escaped Scott, and then he was gently prying Stiles' hands off of him. "I know," he said tiredly, clambering forward to resume his task. "I know that. It's just- it's a really big coincidence."

            "You mean the fact that your dad gave us a week-long snowboarding trip for Christmas and we're suddenly buried under ten feet of snow on the second day?" Stiles shrugged a little, as if it all made sense. "He clearly planned this."

            Scott shot him a dry look, shoving him with one hand just enough to topple him off his knees. "Smart ass," he said as Stiles started laughing.

            Rolling over and getting to his feet, Stiles patted Scott's shoulder. "I'm going to go pull out as many blankets as I can find."

            For a moment, Scott watched him disappear into the darkness with one of the candles before turning back to the fireplace. He struck a match, holding it carefully against a folded newspaper page at the bottom of the stack. It flared up, flame licking at the bottom of the dried out tinder and logs. It was good wood, stored in the mudroom of the cabin instead of outside, and Scott was glad someone had had the foresight.

            He was also glad the snow hadn’t covered the top of the chimney, or they wouldn't have been able to start a fire to keep warm. They'd lost power in the avalanche that had buried their cabin and after a couple of hours of waiting to see if anyone was going to rescue them, Stiles had pointed out that it was getting colder. When Scott had taken Stiles' hands in his, they'd been freezing.

            As the fire caught, Scott took a seat on the floor, listening to Stiles root around in the bedrooms. He appeared a couple of moments later, dragging so much bedding with him that he looked like an abominable blanket monster. Scott allowed himself a fond smile and then popped to his feet, rushing to help unload the precious cargo.

            Together, they moved the couch around and put the cushions on the floor, turning them into walls before they draped blankets over them to form an open-face fort. "We haven't done this since we were kids," Stiles said as he smoothed a hand over the comforter they laid on the floor.

            Scott reached out, swiping at Stiles and dragging him down into the pile. "Maybe we should," he teased as Stiles flailed into a more comfortable position, finally settling back in Scott's lap. He was shivering, just a little. "I miss them."

            "Year and a half," Stiles promised. "Another year and a half and we'll be out, and we can go live wherever we want."

            "And build as many blanket forts as we want?" Scott prompted.

            Stiles hummed thoughtfully as he dragged a load of blankets over them and stretched his feet out toward the warmth of the fire. "If it's this peaceful, we can turn our bed into a blanket fort permanently," Stiles declared.

            Scott's chuckle rumbled against Stiles' back. "It is kind of nice, isn't it..." he mused. "I mean, just... having normal problems."

            "What part of this is _normal_?" Stiles asked, giving him a sidelong look over his shoulder.

            "You know what I mean," Scott said. "No Pack business, no visiting werewolves, no... _supernatural_ problems."

            "The yeti that caused this snow-in would surely be offended to hear you say so," Stiles teased, but then he leaned his head back against Scott's shoulder. "But, you're right, I think. For once it's just a problem anyone could have."

            Scott rested his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. "You know, I kind of thought that the werewolf stuff would settle down when we left for college. Got away from Beacon Hills."

            "It's not the place," Stiles reminded him softly. "We could live at the center of Beacon Hills or the center of the earth, run off to the east coast for college or to the mountains for winter break... It doesn't matter where go, because it's us. We're the beacons."

            Scott didn't miss the note of bitterness in the last few words, but he knew there wasn't anything he could say, because he felt the same. Everywhere they went, they were dogged by the supernatural- and not just werewolves. Other shifters - and there were dozens of species, they'd discovered - kept seeking out the supernatural call Scott, Stiles, and Allison all broadcasted. Isaac had once told them it felt _magnetic_ , but the more time he spent around it, the easier it became to ignore.

            Sometimes, Scott wondered if Isaac could feel it back in Beacon Hills now, with all of them at different schools around the country.

            Sometimes he expected it to be one of his pack at his door, instead of a new problem.

            It never was.

            "You're thinking too loudly," Stiles said after a bit. "I'll never get to sleep."

            "Can't have that," Scott murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Stiles' head. "You definitely need all the beauty sleep you can get."

            Stiles made an undignified noise somewhere between a laugh and protest, squirming around until Scott's grip slacked open and he could straddle his thighs. "Are you saying I am anything less than beautiful already?"

            "Hm..." Scott said thoughtfully, earning him a little, playful shove from Stiles. "Okay, all right! Of course not, you're gorgeous," he said, surrendering with a chuckle. Then he reached up, brushing his thumbs over the soft blush starting to color Stiles' jaw line. "Especially when you're blushing."

            "Oh, shut up," Stiles said, rolling his eyes. He rested his forearms on Scott's shoulders and bowed to rest their foreheads together, touching his chilly nose to Scott's. "I'm not blushing, I'm just _cold_."

            Smirking, Scott slipped his hands underneath Stiles' hoodie, smoothing palms up the long expanse of his back, fingers tracing the knobs of his spine on the way back down. "I could warm you up," he offered a moment before Stiles pressed their lips together.

            "You'd better," Stiles breathed when they finally pulled apart.

 

* * *

 

            Scott cracked his eyes open, still foggy with sleep. The sound of Stiles' steady, resting heartbeat was loud in the silent cabin and for a few minutes Scott let himself just enjoy it. The heartbeat, the warmth of his skin, the way his breath puffed against Scott's collarbone; all of them were comforts Scott hadn't really had in months. As much as he still wasn't getting along with his father, he was grateful for a chance to spend time with Stiles alone, away from all the rest of it.

            Even if _away from all the rest_ meant buried in the snow, miles away from the nearest source of help.

            Eventually, Scott knew he had to move. The fire had burned down to a few measly coals and Scott didn't want to try to start it from scratch again. Slowly, he began the process of extracting himself from Stiles' sleep-clingy grasp in such a way as to not wake him. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Stiles woke up, but it would mean he wouldn't get to wake Stiles up to a crackling fire and a mug of hot cocoa.

            When he was finally free, Scott rooted around the blankets for some form of clothing, making a face as he pulled on his boxers. He vowed to bring back a damp washcloth as well.

            Scratching his belly and running a hand through his hair to try to wake himself up, he crossed to the area of the cabin that served as a kitchen. It wasn't huge- a small fridge with a freezer section in the top, a tap with a short counter on one side and a half-oven on the other. It was all electric and kind of useless now.

            Thankfully they hadn't wanted to drink well water, and so had packed gallons of spring water. Scott had insisted on bringing everything from the Jeep inside the first day, so all of it was piled in the kitchen area. He found two dusty mugs in the cabinet above the sink, and wiped them out with a napkin, which he tucked into his pocket to help restart the fire. He plucked a spoon from the drawer and two packets of powdered hot cocoa mix from their supplies and left them on the table.

            The bathroom was cramped, the smell of damp and woodrot washing over him when he opened the door. He grabbed a couple washcloths as fast as he could and ducked back out again, securing the door so the smell was contained.

            On his way back, he gathered the dishes, water jug, and cocoa mix. Taking a seat before the dying fire, Scott set the mugs as close as he dared to the embers to warm, and then poured water into both.

            He stirred the embers around with the iron poker next to the fireplace, moving the biggest pieces together. They flickered to life, tiny tongues of flame reappearing. Then he put one of the flaky, dry logs onto the glowing bed at the same time as he tucked the napkin beneath it. A few moments later, he added another log and watched as they both caught.

            He tipped a little water onto one of the towel and cleaned himself while the mugs heated next to the reborn fire. Stiles stirred halfway through and greeted him with a resigned groan and a sleepy _good morning._ Scott passed him the second washcloth after wetting it.

            "Cold? Really?" Stiles said as he accepted the dubious present and began dragging it over his skin. He gave an exaggerated shiver.

            "All we got unless you want to wait," Scott told him, shaking his head with a fond smile. "I'm heating up some water for cocoa."

            "Breakfast in bed?" Stiles teased. "Ever the romantic."

            "Smartass," Scott said. He tossed the cloth over by the edge of the fireplace to dry, and checked the temperature of the water with one finger. It was lukewarm, so he just left it there. Stiles added his own washcloth a moment later and snuggled back down under the blankets.

            "So, how long do you think it'll be before they realize we're stuck up here?" Stiles asked quietly.

            Scott glanced over to the window, covered completely by white snow. They could probably dig out, if they were desperate. The Jeep was buried completely, but Scott knew that he could run the twelve miles back to civilization, and bring help for Stiles. It was a last resort, of course. He didn't want to leave Stiles here alone.

            "Maybe they already know," Scott said. "There's a dozen other cabins in the area, and ours is farthest from the main building. It's not exactly civilization out here, so any rescue team might have to focus on one place at a time."

            Reaching over, Stiles lifted his phone and checked the face of it, but Scott could see there were no bars. There were no towers this far out. "But, they'd call our emergency contacts, right? My dad, your mom?" He set the phone back at the edge of the blanket fort. "They'd bring everyone. They'd get us out."

            "They're like 15 hours away," Scott pointed out. "I think the people that run this place will get here first."

            "And if they don't?" Stiles asked. Scott knew he was used to having a plan, and a backup plan. He could almost _smell_ how much it bothered Stiles that the avalanche had wreaked havoc on their winter break plans.

            Scott abandoned his place by the fire in order to wriggle under the blankets with Stiles, warm fingers seeking Stiles' chilly skin. Even with the fire and the blankets, it was cold. "If they don't," he said as Stiles pressed into his touch. "Then maybe you can save us by punching out a window, because that worked so well- ah!"

            He broke into laughter as Stiles shoved at him, saying: "How about I punch you, smartass." They dissolved into wrestling until Scott had Stiles completely wrapped up in his arms, the blanket over their heads.

            Scott touched his nose to Stiles' and smiled. "I'll keep you safe," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Stiles' lips. Though Stiles huffed, he closed his eyes, and relaxed into the kiss.

 

* * *

 

            The low murmur of a distant engine roused Scott from sleep a while later. The fire had gone down some from its peak, but they had only been dozing for a couple of hours. For just a moment, with the covers pulled over their heads and the fire crackling sluggishly at their feet, Scott nearly forgot where they were, and what had happened. It wasn't until he realized the engine was not just one engine, and it didn't belong to any sort of car he'd heard before, that he was dragged back to reality.

            "Stiles," he said softly, nudging at him. His arm was asleep under Stiles, which was both amusing and fun for him. Early on he had discovered that being a werewolf cured the pins and needles sensation as soon as the pressure let up. "Hey, I think they're coming for us."

            "What?" Stiles slurred, struggling into a sitting position. A cool, tingly sensation washed down Scott's arm as he sat up as well, reaching for Stiles' arm to keep him grounded.

            "Not _coming for us_ coming for us," Scott assured him. It didn't surprise him that Stiles assumed they were under attack with that phrasing. "I think they're coming to rescue us."

            "My heroes," Stiles grumbled, scrubbing tiredly at his eyes with the heel of his hand. It was adorable, and Scott had missed it terribly.

            The engines were loud enough that Scott assumed even Stiles could hear them now, so he tossed clothing at Stiles' head and began to shimmy into his own so that they would be semi-presentable when anyone managed to reach the interior of the cabin. Stiles smirked and watched him the entire time before finally starting to dress as well.

            "Think they'll let us stay after they dig us out?" Stiles called as Scott crawled out of the blanket fort.

            "Probably not," Scott said loudly. The engines were pulling up somewhere above his head outside the door. He glanced back to see Stiles poking his head out of the fort, and he smiled. "But maybe they'll let us come back. You know, without any disasters next time."

            Stiles just grinned and hurried to catch up to Scott on the way to the front door.


End file.
